


Oops

by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)



Series: Sterek A-Z Challenge [15]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Body Worship, Bodyswap, M/M, People need to communicate more, Pining Derek, Pining Stiles, Scott needs a vacation, So does the Sheriff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-22 18:41:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10702842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wasterella/pseuds/isthatbloodonhisshirt
Summary: There was a deep inhale, as if an argument were about to start, but the air expelled outward almost as quickly as it had been sucked inward. One large hand came up to scratch idly at the beard on his face. “Oops.”“Oops?!” Stiles’ voice demanded angrily. “What do youmean, oops?! This isn’t a fucking game!” He rounded on Scott. “How do we fix it?”





	Oops

**Author's Note:**

> Teen Wolf (c) Jeff Davis

“Well?” an impatient voice snapped. “What does it say?”

“If you stopped breathing down his neck, maybe he’d be able to read it,” someone else muttered under their breath, voice a low rumble.

“Shut up! This is _your_  fault!”

“Hey now, we don’t know that yet. We won’t know that until…”

He trailed off when Scott turned to look at them both, an apologetic look on his face. Light hazel eyes shifted to stare murderously at the idiot who had gotten them into this mess.

“Sorry,” Scott muttered, wincing. “It uh, looks like that thing you touched was the cause of all of this.”

“I told you, I _told_  you!” Stiles’ voice roared loudly, the teen taking two steps and fisting the front of a grey Henley, shaking the other man in the room. “I _told_  you not to touch anything! Can you not stay out of trouble for ten fucking seconds?!”

There was a deep inhale, as if an argument were about to start, but the air expelled outward almost as quickly as it had been sucked inward. One large hand came up to scratch idly at the beard on his face. “Oops.”

“Oops?!” Stiles’ voice demanded angrily. “What do you _mean_ , oops?! This isn’t a fucking game!” He rounded on Scott. “How do we fix it?”

“I—uh… Deaton?”

Derek’s head shook once, the movement quickly aborted when hazel eyes snapped back to him, looking murderous. “Uh, Deaton’s apparently out for the night. He asked me to let you know. I kind of forgot.”

“Perfect,” Stiles’ voice sneered, hands still fisted in the front of the Henley. “Great. Fucking terrific. God dammit, why is it so hard for you to listen to the simplest instruction?!”

“I didn’t know this was gonna happen!” Derek’s arms flailed, and the action pissed him off even more.

“We were in an evil wizard’s house!” Stiles’ voice roared. “What the fuck did you _think_  was gonna happen?!”

“What is going on in here?!”

Stiles’ entire body went rigid, heart slamming against his ribs while he whipped around, fear spreading through him at the sound of someone else’s voice.

He had never not heard someone coming before. He had never felt so vulnerable, so _human_  before. Even that brief stint last year where he’s lost his abilities, some parts of him had still remained, but this? No, this was different. This was him as a complete human.

One-hundred percent meatbag.

“Hey—sheriff…” Derek’s awkward voice said, waving one hand in an almost flail-like fashion. “How’s it goin’?”

Sheriff Stilinski stood at Stiles’ bedroom door, still in uniform, with a frown on his face. His eyes shifted back and forth between the still awkwardly waving Derek, and the scowling Stiles who was fisting the front of the werewolf’s shirt.

His face fell.

“You gotta be kidding me.”

“What, really?” Derek’s voice sounded surprised, eyebrows shooting up. Hazel eyes glared at the open expression on his face. “Just like that?”

The sheriff was rubbing at his eyes with one hand, sighing deeply. “Son, I’ve lived with you in my house for eighteen years, you really think I wouldn’t recognize my own son if I saw him?” he waved vaguely in their direction, then looked up once more. “What happened?”

“Body swap,” Scott said from the chair, rubbing the back of his head. “Stiles kind of, uh… touched something. Derek was closest to him so it looks like it latched onto him and switched their minds around.”

“Because _someone_  can’t follow simple instructions,” Derek snarled in Stiles’ voice, turning to glower at him. He hated that he had to glower _upwards_  since Stiles’ body was slightly shorter than Derek’s. “Like _don’t touch anything_!”

“It was just a birthday card!” Stiles insisted, the high pitch of his panic making Derek’s voice sound off even to his own ears. “How was I supposed to know it was a magical mind-swapping birthday card?! Most people do not get their minds swapped when they touch birthday cards!”

“Enough, Derek,” the sheriff insisted, exasperated. He frowned. “Stiles? Whatever.” He rubbed his face again, letting out a long, heavy sigh. “Where are we on getting this resolved?”

“Uh…” Scott glanced nervously at Stiles. When he just got glared at, he seemed to remember his friend was actually in Derek’s body and turned to him. The moron just gave him a flaily shrug.

Derek couldn’t help but wonder if Stiles was doing it on purpose. He seemed to be a lot more animated than usual, and he was making weird faces, like he was experimenting with Derek’s body to see if it actually _could_  make certain expressions and Derek just didn’t.

Which he _didn’t_! That was the point! He didn’t like seeing his body acting like that, and every time Stiles had accidentally let his claws out or dropped his fangs on the ride home, he had started cackling like an idiot and reciting lines from old werewolf movies.

Derek was _not_  fucking amused.

“It doesn’t look like this will be resolved tonight,” the sheriff said after a long silence. “Scott, why don’t you head on home? Derek—” he looked at Derek’s body, then remembered he wasn’t in there and turned to Stiles’ body instead, “—maybe you should stay the night. Until we fix this, I think it’d be best to keep you both together. Try and contain this as much as possible.”

“Fine,” Stiles’ voice bit out. He noticed the sheriff wince and felt guilty somewhat. It must’ve been weird hearing and seeing his son like this. Derek just couldn’t help it! This was how he was, regardless of the body his mind was in!

Scott muttered a goodbye without looking at them and eased out of Stiles’ chair, leaving the room with a pat on the back from the sheriff. Then, the three of them stood there while the front door downstairs opened, and then shut.

“Go on, get to bed. We’ll sort this out in the morning,” the sheriff said.

“I can’t sleep without my pillow,” Derek’s voice said miserably, and hazel eyes turned to glare angrily at him for daring to make his face look that pathetic.

“Then sleep in your bed.” His father motioned it.

“But I’m in Derek’s body!” His arms flailed again. “I don’t want Derek’s body in my bed!”

Sheriff Stilinski stared at him, then shook his head and turned to disappear down the corridor. He was muttering under his breath, and it was alarming to Derek not to be able to hear it.

Stiles, being in his body, heard it just fine.

“Hey! That’s abuse!” he called back, a scowl on his face.

“Go to bed, Stiles,” his father called back and shut his bedroom door.

The two of them turned to stare at one another. Stiles was making Derek’s face do weird things again, but it looked like his usual weird expressions. Derek was a little annoyed at realizing he could recognize Stiles’ expressions on his own stupid face.

“Go take a shower, and you can sleep in my bed,” he muttered, not sounding happy about it. “I’ll take my pillow.” He turned to do just that, grabbing it off the bed and hugging it to himself before stalking out of the room. He reappeared a second later. “How do I turn the hearing down? I can hear my neighbour singing to herself.”

“Figure it out,” Derek snapped, unable to control his temper right now. He hated this so fucking much, he had no words!

That earned him an eye roll, a muttered insult, and then Stiles disappeared into a room across the hall, shutting the bedroom door behind him.

Derek stood in the middle of Stiles’ room, unsure what to do. He hesitated before moving to root through the teen’s drawers, finding a pair of sweats he thought might fit him before remembering that he was in Stiles’ body, and these were Stiles’ clothes, so they would _all_  fit him.

Annoyed at remembering this, he headed down the corridor to the bathroom and shut the door behind himself.

Taking a slow breath, he shifted his gaze to the side and caught sight of himself in the mirror. He quickly averted his gaze again, scowling at the floor. This was bad. This was really bad. Having him take a shower was a terrible idea.

His gaze shifted back to the mirror and he cursed internally before pushing away from the bathroom door and bracing himself against the sink, staring at Stiles’ face in the mirror.

It wasn’t like he didn’t get the chance to look at him on a regular basis. Stiles was always around, gesticulating wildly and smirking like he always had a secret. Derek hated looking at him, because he often felt like that smirk was for him. Like Stiles _knew_  how Derek felt and was just rubbing it in like an asshole.

Now, Derek didn’t have to worry about Stiles looking smug. He could stare freely, so despite knowing he _shouldn’t_ —it was almost like abuse of power right here—he couldn’t help it.

He stared.

He let his eyes rake over every inch of Stiles’ face, from his soft hair, to his long lashes, high cheekbones, full lips. He stared at the spattering of moles on his face, at the way he could look if he bit his bottom lip, how his long, slender fingers felt against his neck.

God, Stiles was beautiful. He was sure Stiles wouldn’t appreciate being called beautiful, but it wasn’t like Derek was going to _tell_  him so.

He hesitated before pulling the shirt off. It wasn’t _wrong_  to strip naked if Stiles was the one who’d told him to do it, right? Derek was just doing as he was told.

Pulling off each layer of clothing slowly, he watched the teen’s movements hungrily, feeling his cock twitch, which was probably a bad thing since it wasn’t _his_  cock. Not to mention… Stiles would be able to smell the arousal. Not through two doors, but if he wasn’t careful, Derek’s nose would betray him.

Once he’d kicked off Stiles’ boxers, he stood staring at himself in the mirror, letting his hands rake down along his body. Across his chest, over his nipples, down his abdomen. He hesitated, staring down at Stiles’ cock, but when would he ever get a chance like this again?

His eyes shot to the bathroom door, then he reached out to lock it when he realized he hadn’t done so yet. Moving to the shower, he turned it on and climbed in once the temperature was right, then stared down again.

Derek had fantasized about seeing Stiles’ dick for months. Somehow, having it offered up to him like this seemed almost too good to be true. A part of him wondered if this was a joke, and he was just dreaming. But when his hand closed around Stiles’ dick, a hiss escaping him, there was no way his imagination was that good.

He wished it was his actual hand around Stiles’ cock. He wanted to know how it felt, if it would fit perfectly in his palm, if it was as hot as it seemed.

Biting at Stiles’ bottom lip, he wrapped slender fingers around his cock and slowly began to stroke himself. A soft breath escaped him, eyes sliding shut and head tilting back at the feeling. Somehow, it felt more intimate to be jerking Stiles off than when he jerked himself off. Sure, it was still technically _him_  jerking _himself_ , but knowing he was in Stiles’ body made such a difference.

He got to hear what he sounded like, what noises Stiles would make if Derek were fisting his cock. He also got a brief moment to experience what it would be like for Stiles’ long, slender fingers to touch him this intimately. Sure, it was Stiles’ own fingers on his own dick, but he could imagine those fingers were around his.

When he came, it was with a cry louder than he’d been intending, but he just hoped no one heard, panting harshly while leaning against the tiled wall of the shower, the water beating down on him seeming cooler than it had been when he’d entered.

He washed himself off, letting his fingers linger along certain stretches of pale skin, mapping Stiles’ body out so he could remember this later, dream about it, jerk off to it.

It was hard to determine if he smelled okay or not when he was done. He kept hoping he didn’t smell too heavily like arousal, but it was hard to tell when he didn’t have his nose. Hopefully Stiles wouldn’t figure it out, even if he _could_  smell it. After all, he wasn’t used to the heightened senses, maybe he wouldn’t know the scent.

Towelling off and pulling on the sweats, he gathered up the clothes Stiles had been wearing and headed out of the bathroom and back to Stiles’ room, dumping everything into the hamper after retrieving his phone and wallet. He was about to wake up his phone before remembering the one he held belonged to Stiles and not him.

Wandering into the dark corridor and cursing when he walked into a hall table—seriously, how were humans not always easily dead?—he walked up to the other room and opened the door.

“Stiles, I need my—”

Derek froze, staring at the sight in front of him.

His own horrified face stared back at him, his body standing in the middle of the room, completely naked, with a raging hard on. One of his hands was hovering above the erection, as if it had been about to touch it.

“This isn’t what it looks like!” Stiles blurted out, Derek’s voice escaping him in a much higher tone than he was used to hearing.

“Really? Because it looks like you’re about to jerk off,” Derek bit out, shutting the door behind himself. He didn’t need the sheriff to come out and see his naked body. “If that’s _not_  what you’re doing, then maybe you should explain what it _is_  you’re doing.”

Stiles said nothing, staring at Derek with wide, terrified eyes before flailing again, like he always did.

“Okay fine! Maybe I had a moment of weakness! Maybe I was about to jerk off just to see what you sounded like!” Red began to rise up Derek’s face, settling in his cheeks and flushing his throat. “Maybe you’re kinda hot despite how big of an asshole you are, and I was just…” He shrugged and averted his gaze.

Derek stalked forward, Stiles stumbling backwards in alarm. Which was hilarious, because he was in Derek’s body and could likely hold one hand out and keep Derek at bay. But he didn’t. He just scrambled backwards into the wall and Derek got up into his space, grabbed him by the neck, and wrenched his face down.

Kissing him was weird. It was weird, because he was kissing himself. Even though he _knew_  it was Stiles in there, it was still _his_  face.

That effectively killed the mood for him and he pulled away, but kept his hand at the back of his neck, watching his own pale eyes flicker open.

“That… was… What just happened? Also, kissing myself was weird. Can we not do that again right now?”

“Agreed,” Derek said, wishing he’d waited, if only because the expression on his own face would’ve looked so much better on Stiles’, eyes at half mast, lips parted, cheeks flushed. Dammit. “When we’re back in our own bodies, we’re finishing this.”

“Right. Yes. Totally,” Stiles agreed, nodding emphatically. It looked weird to see, but Derek just snorted once and turned, heading back for the door.

“You can do what you want, but just bear in mind,” he turned to smirk at him, “anything you do to me, I’ve likely already done to you.”

“Wait, what?!” Stiles asked, Derek’s face twisting into a look of horror.

Derek just smirked and closed the door. He hoped Deaton came back soon. He was ready to get back into his own body.

Mostly so that he could defile Stiles’. Because damn if it wasn’t an amazing body.

**END.**


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